Perhaps I would have discussed this on Friday, on the actual holiday, however, we celebrated Valentine’s Day on Saturday the 15th this year.

Because we wanted to stick it to the man.

Well. Also, we had a friend’s birthday celebration that happened to be on Valentine’s Day, but again, we didn’t care.

It’s a silly day. One that creates competition in the workplace of who got the biggest floral arrangement, and causes singles to drink and gorge in misery or rage or just because they have nothing better to do because all of their friends with significant others were being all mushy with their forced romanticism (see my Valentine’s Day of 2012).

So last year, when my boyfriend and I were approaching our first Valentine’s Day celebration, we discussed the topic with apprehension. Or at least until we realized our feelings towards the Hallmark holiday were generally the same.

In the end, we decided to hit up a nearby hole in the wall for Thai food. And the only reason we didn’t order it to go was because the place was empty. Completely empty. And we felt kinda bad about it.

For good measure, we did also get each other Valentine’s Day gifts. I gave him random pantry items from the Walgreens around the corner from my office. “I love how cheesy you are” (mac n’ cheese) and “so glad you’re never a jerk” (beef jerky). He got me a coffee table book about Justin Bieber.

Match made in heaven.

So this year, we discussed maybe doing something nice and a bit more formal/romantic, but why fix what’s not broken?

He got me an immersion blender that I’ve had on my wish list for years. His reasoning was not so much because I wanted it (I really did), but to “keep me in the kitchen where I belong”.

Smart ass. Don’t take that the wrong way- he really just loves my cooking and baking.

Besides… he knows who the boss is in the house:

Dinner again was Thai food (after we took a trip to Home Depot because we are, in fact, the most romantic couple in the entire world). Same local hole in the wall. We’ve started a tradition now. Which is awesome because I have no problem forever associating pad woon sen with February 14th.

Because I really hate country music, and I missed the bandwagon (by what- 8 months? a year?), but I can’t stop listing to that stupid song “Cruise” by Florida Georgia Line. In my defense, I didn’t start liking it until after I heard the remix that features Nelly.

Nevermind that Nelly has totally sold out since he started doing Honey Nut Cheerio ads and the song may now be even more lame now that he’s associated with it.

Nelly. Get it together.

Either way, it’s happening. But if that is one of the things getting me through my workouts, then so be it. Because my lungs are still failing me a bit as they still rattle with mucus from time to time.

I’m sexy.

Anyway, I’ve gotten myself up to 2 miles in the morning. And a bunch of walking. We’re about halfway there when it comes to getting back into the normal routine.

Cruisin’.

So yeah. When I haven’t been doing that, I’ve been doing stuff like working my butt off on a few extremely pressing deadlines (proposal writing is not for the faint of heart, my friends). And when I haven’t been working towards deadlines, I’ve been on the serious hunt for the new Oreos. Where are my cookie dough and marshmallow crispy?!?!?!

Seriously. WHERE ARE THEY?

I have convinced myself that all my problems, such as lack of running and too much work, will be solved as soon as I have them secured in my greedy paws. My boyfriend said he’d like to try them, too, when I find them.

That’s cute.

Like I said I’d share or something.

Please excuse me. I must now go and cruise some more…

And by cruise, I mean live on coffee until my biometric screening at work this morning. My biometric screening is at 10:50 and we have to fast for it. No breakfast has been consumed. Heads may roll. Byyyyeeeeeeeee….

Sure, it’s a little unorthodox, but I don’t mind. I never have to wait for a machine and the majority of the gym crazies/pervs are still sound asleep. My workouts are 99.9% uninterrupted and 99.9% productive. I leave out the .01% because hey- no one’s perfect. Not even me.

Although I’m pretty close.

But let’s move on.

So I’ve gotten used to my morning routine over the years, and it’s really no trouble at all to go through a super intense speed workout or break out 4 miles a few times a week as part of my cardio.

Yesterday I ran one mile. It was a very trying experience. Which reminded me of when I was 10 and almost always in the last quarter of the class to stumble across the finish line for the one-mile fitness test in school.

Or when my mom, ON THE FIRST TIME SHE MET MY BOYFRIEND, laughed about how she had a hard time watching me when I joined track in 8th grade because she basically spent the entire time praying I’d fully make it around the track (thanks, mom).

However, I suppose my one mile was better than laying like a zombie on the couch and wondering how many times I’ll wake myself up in the middle of the night with a massive coughing fit. And considering that if I laugh hard enough, I still currently also spend 2 minutes wheezing and catching my breath, things could be worse. So I guess we’ll take the wins where we can get them.

Yes, it had been 6 years since I’ve had anything worse than the common cold. The boyfriend thinks I possess “country germs” from my growing up on a farm that make me immune to most sickness and the common cold. He’s probably right. I am basically a super human.

However, when I finally do fall to illness?

I go down hard.

Over the course of last Monday, I went from happy/chipper/yaysies to crawling/grasping the stair case while panting for breath on my way home. I then proceeded to bed by 7:00 that evening and sleep on and off for over 18 hours.

At one point, I actually fell asleep trying to motivate myself to get up to go get something to eat. And then it happened again.

Which is hilarious. I NEVER skip a meal, but the kitchen was just so far away from my bed (err… 15 feet).

Body aches. Chills. Sore throat. Fever. No makeup.

Hot mess, indeed.

Thank goodness the boyfriend came home with gifts:

Sprite and saltines. My grandma’s remedy. I’m pretty sure grandma only intended for this to be used for stomach-related issues, but it’s a comfort thing.

I had a few days of “not so bad”, and then I took another nose dive. And the thing is, I most definitely should have gone to the doctor earlier. So this is me kicking myself. Because instead, I kept up the optimistic “surely I’ll feel better tomorrow if I continue to rest today” mentality. Nope. So by Day 8 (yesterday), I was ready for the doctor, who proceeded to inform me of my severe upper respiratory infection. Was this what I started with a week earlier? I don’t really think so as the symptoms seemed to change over the course of the week, but I don’t really care. Because now I have antibiotics and life is so much better.

Since the sprite and saltines didn’t work completely, later on in the week we also tried my boyfriend’s grandma’s cure-all: matzo ball soup.

Maybe had I gone to the doctor on days 1 or 2, I wouldn’t have had to cancel on dinner plans, a book club, and make a quick exit at a Super Bowl party I instantly realized I shouldn’t have been at. Such is life.

So we’re finally on our way to recovery. Thanks sickness, it’s been fun. See ya in another 6 years, mmmmk?

I have a 20-lb kettle bell at home. It sits idly in the corner. Right next to a set of dumbbells I will never be able to pick up and a balance board I’m not stupid enough to attempt to use- even under supervision (Hello, my name is “Girl who falls down a lot”). But yes, the kettle bell. It’s way too big for a girl my size to do much with. My mom gave it to me after she realized this, too, after my aunt gave it to her because said aunt tried to use it and threw her back out. It’s had many homes. But very little love. So when lil’ Miss Kimmers decided to focus one of her strength training classes on kettle bells? And I get to use ones that are more size appropriate? I’m in.

Who’s Kim?

This is Kim:

Kim and I were ZOOMA Ambassadors together back in 2012…. ah the good ol’ days…

Kim is one of my oldest blog friends (4 years now? Holy cow!) and one of the toughest chicks I know. Within the last year, she started teaching classes for Essential Fitness, LLC and has been gracious enough to invite some of us to take a Saturday class with her every other month or so.

As mentioned before, I’m not the biggest fan of strength training. In other words, I hate strength training with a passion and currently consider hitting a few weight machines and some planks as “good enough” during the week. BUT, since she always gets bunch of ladies together to do it, and it’s always stuff I never do on my own (obviously), I try to make it each time. A step outside of my comfort zone. Let’s call it personal growth.

This last Saturday was focused on kettle bells AND boxing. Neither of which I know anything about. So clearly I was going to be awesome at it.

All the ladies. Pre-workout. So happy and full of smiles…. all wiped away after 60 minutes… just like that…

Did I mention Kim is also the most hyper-active girl I know? Energy seeps out of her every pore. I don’t think she sleeps at night. Just sits and taps her foot waiting for the rest of the world to wake back up. A blessing and a curse when it comes to personality traits of personal trainers. We really move for the entire hour. Swings and step ups and boxing during sit-ups and planks and triceps and steps while boxing…

This is why I hurt today. It’s Monday. 2 days after the fact. Glutes on fire.

Don’t tell Kim, but I sorta love it. Because she knows I slack on my strength. And she made sure I know that’s not ok.

Thanks, Kim. :)

Also, don’t tell Kim that I face dove into pizza that night to reward myself for a job well done.

Shhhh…..

There was salad as a side. So whatever.

What did you do outside of your comfort one this weekend? On top of the strength training, I also drank Merlot instead of my usual Cabernet.

So many people have asked me what my race plans are for this next year.

Ok fine, like three. And one is my boyfriend’s dad who probably just asked to make conversation.

Anyway, my answer was always the same.
“Oh, I don’t know… I may take this year off from the longer races….”

And then my best friend Laura decides she wants to repeat our awesomeness from last year when we ran the Allstate 13.1 Chicago. I wasn’t really hot on the idea at first, but I do enjoy how it’s a reason for people to come visit me. So we signed up for this year’s Michelob Ultra 13.1 Chicago.

It is amazing the hoops you can get me to jump through with the promise of a visit: run 13.1 miles, put in 12 weeks of solid training, and drink less wine. I must REALLY miss my friends.

Anyway, instead of telling you all about this grand plan I’ve meticulously written out and will follow with no deviation whatsoever, I will present you with my “Do’s” and “Don’ts” of half marathon training. Because, let’s face it, I’m too-hard headed to have something (or someone?) tell me what to do.

Do1. Take the strength and core training effort up a notch. It’s the core that gets you there, my friends. PLANKS FOR EVERYONE!
2. Progressively add a mile to each long run on the weekends. Since the mister and I are generally pretty lame on Fridays by staying in and having a threesome with Redbox, I think we’re ok here.
3. Eat less sugar. My snackage needs an overhaul. I work in the Loop and am within walking distance of no less than 4 cupcake shops. We also won’t even get started with my newfound love of gourmet donut shops.
4. Crosstrain more. I love me some treadmill action in the mornings before work. But perhaps it’s time to rekindle my relationship with the elliptical. Or stairs. Or the row machine. Groan.
5. Keep hydrated. Keeping hydrated does not include drinking more Diet Coke. Stop drinking Diet Coke, Amy. Stop it.

Don’t
1. Die. That’s my main goal of this race. Don’t die. No speed goals… just live to get through the finish line and to the beer station. Stay alive to have a happy day of shenanigans afterwards. Simple stuff.
2. Skip weekend runs. I have a couple of weekends out of town scheduled when my so-called training plan should start, so I may have to do some recruiting to get people to think it’s a good idea to join me on those days (don’t tell the boyfriend that it’s most definitely going to be him).
3. Stress out. From prior experience, I know that at about the 9-10 mile run days are where I start to lose it. Motivation starts to drop. Enjoyment goes out the window. You know… the most important things you need to get through the workout? I have to remember this is an activity I signed up for in hopes of having fun with my friend. We shall treat it as such.
4. Die. Oh, did I write that one down already? Well. Yeah. It’s an important one. We can mention it again.

I’ve been good. Still alive. I think I may have added a wrinkle or two, but we’re ok with it (LIE- I’m now buying ALL the anti-wrinkle things my pharmacy store budget allows).

Hmmm…. this is SO awkward, guys…

What have I been up to, you ask? Well.

1. I’m an official suburbanite again. After a lovely 2 years and 3 months in the city with my roommate, we parted ways. She drove her Uhaul to Boston to live with her man, and I drove mine out to the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago to do the same. There were tears. And many Goodwill drop-offs (do you know how much crap you accumulate after that long? Shame.).

2. I ran one half marathon and dropped out of another. Don’t ever think it’s a good idea to sign up for a race that is exactly one week after you relocate yourself into new digs.

3. I’ve taken up spin class. Maybe for more crosstraining options during the week. Maybe to fully embrace my new suburban lifestyle. Who really knows? Now leave me alone with my wine spritzer… I had to pick up the kids from soccer practice in the minivan and go to Home Depot.

Just kidding. I haven’t blessed Earth with the art of reproduction yet. Nor do I own a minivan. I prefer my wine straight and the last time I went to Home Depot, it was with my boyfriend and I got lost and scared.